7th August - 26th August 2018

The flat we were sharing with the cast was getting mighty crowded; it's tough having to use the front room as my bedroom. It shouldn't be, but as it's joined onto the kitchen it did mean that any sense of privacy was out of the window as actors milled around making drinks at any time of day as I was trying to kip. My girlfriend also came up, as we were sharing the room it shouldn't be a problem, but sharing what felt like the world's most uncomfortable double sofa bed clearly was. Maybe if we were younger this wouldn't have been a problem, or maybe if it was for a couple nights...but she's 30, I'm 37, the idea of two and a bit weeks of this wasn't something either of us were keen on. Also, the fact that the show wasn't going well didn't help - it's a top, top show that we were all proud to be associated with, but getting numbers in was becoming a problem and, sadly, my cast may have had very high expectations going into this run, as much as I often tried to dampen that. And then I got shingles, which fucking hurts. I let it go for a few days, dismissing it as a rash, and then self-diagnosing it (via Google) as hives. By the time I eventually got to a proper GP, he gave me a lecture for leaving it for so long, and for doing so much (not just the fringe stuff, but working 12 hours a day in the months before it just to pay for everything...I was knackered on arrival) and basically told me it would eventually fix itself, but he gave me some strong painkillers and ordered me to rest whenever possible. Doing 5 shows a day made that difficult, but I could get lie-ins, as I didn't have to be at my first venue till 11am, and there was also a cat-nap space between 5.30pm-7pm. But I couldn't do either of these things because my bedroom was the lounge. Luckily...okay, more than luckily, it turns out A had a friend who owned a flat in Edinburgh and they weren't using it, so posted up the keys and we were there for the final two weeks. We had gone from being totally cramped, to having a 5-bedroomed central flat to ourselves. They didn't want paying, but I've bunged them £100 as a thank you - they could have easily charged four grand for that space. 

It was one of those little acts of kindness that you get at the fringe, sometimes in the struggle there's little reminders of nice we can all be to each other. Another example of this could be found at my first venue for the day; not wishing to sound ungrateful, but it was probably the worst venue at the fringe. By the end they were breaching every health and safety regulation going, but that aside it was in the middle of nowhere, seemingly miles from the rest of the festival, and when you eventually got there it was still not clear from the outside that it was a venue. And then once you got inside, the performance room itself still wasn't obvious. Still, once you got in, it wasn't such a bad room - a small, nightclub space, with a little PA and 50 chairs. 50 chairs that needed putting out every morning by the first act of the day, because it was still being used as a nightclub at night. I was that first act, and begrudged the fact I had to put out 50 chairs only for nobody to sit in them anyway because who would come out this far for a midday show, even if it has won awards? This was for my Short Plays...show that I am most proud of. But the thing is, despite getting there on time to do this every day, whenever I turned up, it had already been done...by a 65-year-old man called Alan, who had a show on there at 3.45pm himself but didn't think it was fair that I had to do it, so EVERY day he got up early and did it for me. I became good friends with Alan, especially when I inevitably didn't have an audience for this show (it only happened 8 times out of a potential 22 performances, even then the average crowd size was 2, biggest was 7) - when there was a no-show, I stayed in the venue for the hour anyway and Alan and I ranted about what a mess it was, but also chatted about comedy, music, life, everything. 

This was a stark contrast to the venue where I was doing my afternoon set about JJ...this was in a central venue, easy to get punters in and, whilst it was only ever rammed for me at the weekends, I was pretty much always in double figures. The problem was the show itself, which took about a week to settle. The intro, the actual point of the show and the punchline were the strongest bits I've ever written, but too much of it dragged in the middle and I found myself putting in a bit from last year's show (the 'sexy thighs/back' song and a routine about not being able to end telephone conversations) to gel it together and, once I realised this worked, the show itself was lovely. But it shouldn't have taken 7 days for that to happen. 7 days of below-par storytelling. I had a typically wide range of audiences: a hen party (who were great, but really chatty - to me, as I was trying to do the show, it felt more like a Q&A at times), rooms full of old people (the tone changes considerably when this happens), other comedians (hate doing shows to them - it's like they're spying on me), Australian tourists who film everything (but also say nice things about the show, as I've found out) and proper Joe Jackson fans who just want to geek out with me - which is lovely, but often half of the room don't know who JJ is and they're just there for stand-up in an established, quality venue, so it becomes hard to keep everyone happy. On the whole, I think I did - some of the best gigs I had there were to smaller audiences...I freak out when the room is full. Luckily, that was barely the case anyway. 

My little Comedians Drumming show should have worked better, it wasn't until week 3 that I realised having three guests a show instead of two upped the intensity of the whole thing, and switching the order of the rounds around made the audience more invested from the start. At times, the show was spectacularly brilliant, other times the audience were watching comedians having a drum lesson and just not finding it funny as I said, "Edinburgh Fringe guys, this is happening, this is technically a show..." on repeat. It all comes down to the quality of the guests...there was certainly a reason why I invited a select number of them back to be in the show again in the final week because it made my life a lot easier. The venue was unconventional but central enough and well-equipped for what I do (ie; I was allowed to store my drum kit in the kitchen upstairs), the format really should have worked but quite often it just didn't grab people. I'm glad I've tried it, but equally glad that, apart from one charity show in Cambridge in September, we don't have to do this again. 

Every night I opened the Cambridge Comedy Collective show, but, as it was in the same venue as my first show of the day, it often didn't happen. Either way, I'd be in that room for 10 minutes, either shouting at an audience or just waiting for people to turn up, before running the mile and a half for my final gig of the day, which started half an hour later. When the shingles kicked in big-time, this was becoming an issue but, apart from a couple of days when I succumbed to getting a taxi, I'm glad that I did it every night. Madness, probably, considering how ill I was feeling, but if I'm at the fringe, I'm bloody well doing it. My final gig of the night was my History of Pop show, which was a surprise success last year and back for a second run. Annoyingly, despite having no artistic integrity whatsoever (I mean, I spend months writing my shows and nobody comes to them, but I print out a bunch of lyrics and organise a sing-song and everyone loves it...) the show was a total success. Again. People in the streets were coming up to me and hailing it as a genius; I often dismissed it as "lazy karaoke with drunk comedians" but then a fellow comic sat me down and talked me through how complex it all was - how much control I have to have on the show to keep it moving, but also ontrack, to keep all of the audience involved constantly, to surprise them with 'alternative' versions etc - and still keep it funny. That's what I've somehow created, but it's not like I've actually sat and thought this through. I'm particularly proud of the 'world's fastest prog song' section of the show, but that was a total accident, it was simply because we were running out of time and had to do it fast anyway. That's pretty much the case of the whole show: a happy accident. The fact that we have 43 songs to get through in 47 minutes (I break up the show with a 10-minute guest in the middle, and we have to allow 3 minutes to let people out at the end) adds a sense of urgency to the show that people like but again, hardly rocket science, is it? Either way, people love it, and it was the only thing I did at the fringe this year that made me money, so I'm grateful. 

A lot of people (including myself) spent a lot of time making sure our '...Sparks' show worked out, but ultimately, despite it being the tightest script I've written, with the best director, in a nice venue and an amazing cast, it never felt like it was working. It was purely down to audience sizes, maybe the location of the venue was an issue, but it was still central enough. Either way, I'm in total awe of that cast for doing that show 23 days in a row, often to four or five people, after flyering for hours on end beforehand. It must have been disheartening but very rarely did they grumble. We'll have dinner soon to discuss it all, but I really hope we can keep this team together and do more in the future. 

I feel like I'm really building something here; I have a bit of following, and it's getting bigger - people who come and see me year in, year out. This year I've noticed that families like me, and often it's families of three or four that are coming to repeat shows - I sense that I'm a safe bet at a festival where many swear and shock people. There was one couple who saw me for the first time at the History of Pop, and then came to watch my three other shows. If everyone did this, I'd be rich but look, there's four thousand shows happening, dedicating four hours to me is, if anything, flattering but foolish. But yep, I'm building something quite nice here with my niche little shows. I've got a big-ish writing commission out of this run...a comedian who I met asked me to guest in her show, she liked my set, and then she saw the play, and has since asked me to write a show for her next year - we had a meeting to discuss my ideas for her, and she had just come from a meeting at a very big and important venue (you know, the one that has a courtyard in it and where I've dreamed of doing a show) and it's already agreed this show I'm writing for her will be on there. Fringe 2019 is looking very exciting already...

Hopefully I won't have shingles then, either, as that's really buggered up my festival. But still, the 7 hour drive home in the old Volvo (which is STILL going, it's nothing short of a miracle) was easy enough, and I pretty much went straight onstage when I got back, back with the band. I was in a bit of discomfort throughout the set, as my body is clearly yearning the rest the doctor ordered, but we were great and the new album is the best thing we've ever done. 

I may feel a bit broken, but things aren't aren't bad at all, really.